by neetha Napew
Kyto motioned to a hut near the lodge. “Please, wait in there.” Nyk gestured to Nayva and Andra and they all stepped into the hut. Nyk stood by the doorway and saw Kyto engaging in a lively conversation with another, middle-aged man.
“That must be the chieftain,” Nyk said. “No doubt, they're discussing our fate.”
“What do you think they'll do with us?” Nayva asked.
“I don't think these are dangerous people. I don't see any weapons -- no spears, bows and arrows.” He looked at the faces on the women and children. “Interesting physical characteristics. They look Asian, but with blond hair, blue eyes and light skin.”
“How many accompanied Midoro?” Andra asked.
“I don't know. I didn't read the entire story on the wall of that cave.”
“For some reason, this settlement never hit critical mass like the Floran colony", Andra observed. “They look to be in decline.”
“Perhaps there are more villages,” Nyk replied. “I wonder how they were overlooked during the scouting missions. Life-form scanning should've picked them up.”
“These people appear not to have any advanced technology,” Nayva said. “Perhaps the assumption was they were native animals. This planet has a well-evolved fauna.”
“As we've tasted,” Andra added.
Kyto entered the hut. He motioned to Nyk to follow him. Andra and Nayva stood, but Kyto gestured with his staff.
“You'd better wait here.” Nyk followed the old man into the lodge. Lying on a feather fur on a slab was a boy. He was naked and appeared to be in discomfort. Kyto and the chief continued their heated discussion. Their speech was rapid and laced with unfamiliar words.
The chief made a gesture, turned and left the lodge. Kyto bowed, walked to Nyk and gestured him outside the lodge.
* * *
Nyk returned to the hut. “Kyto is their medicine-man. Inside the lodge is a very sick boy, in my estimate about fifteen Floran years old. From what I gather he's the son of the chief. Kyto believes the boy has appendicitis, and he'd like to remove his appendix.”
“He can do that?” Nayva asked.
“He could, assuming he had a sharp knife. Unfortunately, his knife broke. The village smith will fabricate a new one, but he must gather raw materials -- a two day trek into the hills. Kyto has told the chief his son's prognosis is poor, but he went up the hill to gather some herbs to make medicine that might help him.”
“When you gave him our knife...” Nayva said.
“He viewed it as a gift from Destiny. The chief is not so happy to see outsiders in his village, though. Kyto has convinced the chief to permit him to operate. If the boy recovers, it's a sign from Destiny. If not -- well, that's another sign. The chief wants me there during the procedure -- to remind Kyto of the stakes.”
“What about us?” Andra asked.
“This is a patriarchal society,” Nyk replied. “I'm afraid females are not welcome for the procedure.”
“When does he begin?” Nayva asked.
“As soon as he gathers the requisite materials.”
A village woman entered the hut carrying three bark trays loaded with meat cutlets and some stringy, dark-green vegetables. Nyk accepted the trays and passed them to Nayva and Andra.
Kyto appeared in the doorway. He motioned for Nyk to follow him. Inside the lodge a number of other men sat on benches near the boy. “Sit there,” Kyto said and gestured toward the corner. The chief sat near him, holding a metre-long staff in his lap.
The old man approached a fire burning in an earthenware brazier and placed a stick into it. The splint ignited. He carried it to the boy, blew out the flame and pressed the glowing end against his bicep. The boy winced and a blister raised on his arm. Kyto repeated the procedure twice.
Kyto withdrew a small earthen jug. The men on the bench averted their eyes. He took the folding knife, snapped it open and punctured the three blisters. Then, the old man reached into the jug with a swab and daubed a thick liquid onto the three wounds. He replaced the jug and motioned to the men on the bench. They approached the boy, rolled him onto his side and held his head.
The boy began panting. Kyto approached him with a basin hewn from a piece of log. He stroked the boy's hair and spoke to him softly. The boy began vomiting. He gasped once and was limp. The men rolled him onto his back and stood at his feet.
Kyto used the knife to make an incision in the boy's abdomen. He motioned to one of the men, who slipped his fingers into the wound. The medicine man cut through layers of muscle to expose the viscera. Another man lent his fingers to keep the tissues retracted.
Nyk craned his neck to see past Kyto. He saw the old man drop something onto a bark tray, and take what appeared to be a bone needle and some filament from a kit.
Another man placed a dressing of fiber wool onto the incision, covered it with a piece of hide and held it in place. Kyto packed his implements, approached Nyk and smiled. The chief stood and went to the boy. Nyk could see his deep, regular breathing.
Nyk returned to the hut. “It was remarkable,” he said and described the surgery. “Kyto has excellent knowledge of human physiology and anatomy. His tools may be primitive, but he's a very wise man.”
“Will the boy survive?”
“Assuming he recovers from the anesthesia, I think he will.”
* * *
Dawn awoke Nyk and he slipped from under his feather-pelt blanket. He picked up the survival kit, stepped from the hut and looked into the lodge. Kyto was conferring with the boy, who was propped up on the slab. The old man headed toward the rear of the lodge.
Nyk followed him into a workroom. An earthenware cauldron sat on a fire pit. A young woman stood at a rough-hewn bench sorting stems of herbs and tying them into bundles. She looked up at Kyto. He gestured with his staff and she hustled from the workroom.
“How is the boy?” Nyk asked in Esperanto.
Kyto looked Nyk over. “You are outsiders. Where are you from?”
“From the colony on the other continent,” Nyk replied. “Are you aware you share this world with others?”
“We see craft flying over from time to time. We surmise it's outsiders. Whether from this world or another is of no concern to us.” Kyto opened a basket and removed an object. “This is a piece of a craft that crashed here a generation ago -- there were no survivors. I was a youth at the time. I recognize your clothes and those of the brown-haired woman. I've never seen a woman the likes of the white one.” He returned the object to the basket. “How is it you speak our tongue and the women don't? Do your women speak a different language than the men?”
“No. I learned your language in order to translate Koichi Kyhana's journal.”
“So you can read the old words?” Kyto picked up a jug and beckoned Nyk to follow him back into the lodge. He opened the jug and removed a stick saturated with liquid. The boy opened his mouth and Kyto inserted the stick.
“How is he doing?”
“He's doing well,” Kyto replied. “He must remain here until his wound closes. I will apply a fresh dressing.”
Nyk opened the survival kit and withdrew the bottle of healing salve. “Put some of this on it.”
Kyto eyed him and dropped the salve onto the incision. The boy winced and grimaced. The wound began to close. Kyto closed the bottle and began to hand it back to Nyk. “Also for you, my friend.”
“Come with me,” Kyto said. Nyk followed him into his hut near the lodge. “Our chief will keep to his bargain. You and your friends may lodge here, and we'll attempt to aid you. There's little we can do to return you to your world.”
“Kyto, how many live in this village?”
“About two hundred men and women.”
“Are there other villages?”
The old man shook his head. “Two generations ago, the last remaining villages merged into this one. In not too many more generations there will be no more Abo.”
“Why the stockade? You have no enemies.”
&nb
sp; “To protect us from the night stalkers.”
“Predators?” Nyk asked.
“Yes. Once in a while an infant or child gets carried off. The stockade permits us to sleep easily.”
“Why did your people settle here?”
Kyto opened a door on a cabinet constructed of the same woven sticks as the huts. He withdrew a book and handed it to Nyk. “You can read the old words. That is a skill lost to us.”
Nyk opened the book and saw pages of polysheets filled with handwriting in Roman characters. He realized it was a journal kept by Midoro Kyhana. Nyk read out loud. We have made planetfall on a world we shall call Abo. This planet possesses two continents -- a northern and a southern. From our exploration, it appears the southern continent is the more hospitable.
He looked up. “This continent was once a lush paradise?”
Kyto nodded. “Over the generations the glacier grew and pushed us to the shore. Only in the past two generations has it shown signs of receding.”
Nyk flipped through the journal. “That cave where we camped -- where you found us. You put those marks on the wall, didn't you.”
Kyto nodded. “That was many years ago, when we built this village. We needed a sacred place nearby.”
“You copied the words from this book.” The old man nodded again. “No wonder it all looked so fresh. Do you know what these words mean?”
Kyto shook his head. “No. I know of the words. 'In the year 154 After PlanetFall, we under the leadership of Midoro Kyhana took leave of Planet Floran...' I know that.”
Nyk read more of the journal. He learned Midoro eschewed technology and desired an agrarian paradise where men and women could live simply, off the land. Midoro believed reliance on technology would doom the settlement on Floran.
“Do you know what became of the Floran settlement?” Nyk asked.
Kyto shook his head. “No. I know when Midoro left the colony was in decline and he believed founding a new settlement was the only hope.”
“Kyto, the Floran hegemony now boasts a population of nearly twenty-four billion, inhabiting more than a dozen planets.”
“Twenty-four billion? I can't fathom such a number.”
“Would you like to rejoin the Florans?”
Kyto shook his head again. “This is the path Destiny traced for us, Nykkyo.”
“Maybe that path leads you to reunification.”
“Maybe ... some day.”
“As some day Floran may reunite with Earth.”
“It does little good to speculate on such so far in the future,” Kyto replied. “We live in the now -- and now, tonight, we will have a celebration. Ylak -- that's the boy's name -- will emerge from the lodge healed. You and your friends are welcome at that event.”
“What was that substance you used to sedate him?”
“It's the venom of a sea-dwelling creature, and it must be used with great care. Too little and he feels the knife. Too much and he never wakes. We use the venom for rituals, and for this. Once, we used it to execute prisoners.”
“Execute prisoners?”
“In the days when there were more villages. Once in a while, a member of one village would make mischief on another. We'd use the venom in that case. It's been generations since that was necessary.”
“Kyto, who will heal these people after you... after you're unable?”
“Ylak desires to be my apprentice. He's not quite of age. I am fond of him, Nykkyo, and I'm happy he's recovered.” Nyk handed the journal to Kyto. “No. It is yours, now. I can't read it; neither can anyone in the village. The marks on that page benefit none of us.”
Nyk nodded and headed for his hut.
“When will we be permitted to show our faces?” Andra asked.
“Quite a change from princess, isn't it? You may feel free to join the women -- in women's work.” He picked up the communicator. “Let's see if we can get anywhere with this...” He activated it. “I have a lock! Let me try sending a distress signal...” He pressed controls on the gadget. “I'm receiving an acknowledgement ... lost it.”
“Maybe someone heard us,” Nayva said.
* * *
Nyk sat beside Andra and Nayva around the communal fire outside the door of the lodge. Members of the village joined them. The villagers began chanting. Kyto stepped through the door of the lodge. He motioned with his staff and Ylak stepped through the door wearing a feather-pelt robe. The villagers cheered.
Young women began passing bark trays of food to those assembled. Nyk popped chunks of meat and pieces of vegetable into his mouth. The villagers broke into song.
A young woman approached Nyk. “May I sit with you?” she asked. Nyk moved aside. “My name is Vipsa.”
“I'm Nykkyo.”
“You're one of the newcomers. Welcome to our village.” Vipsa rested her tray on her lap and began eating her meal. Nyk regarded her. Her features reminded him of Suki and Yasuko -- she had high cheekbones, an oval face and full lips. Her eyes exhibited Suki's pronounced epicanthic fold. But the similarity stopped there -- Vipsa's hair was strawberry blond and she wore it braided in cornrows. Her eyes were brilliant blue. She had a peach complexion and freckles. Nyk thought she looked to be about Dyppa's age -- fifteen or so Earth years.
“You were the one in Kyto's workshop,” Nyk said.
“Yes. One of my chores is to assist him. I bundle his herbs and clean his crockery.”
“Is he teaching you the healing ways?”
She shook her head. “No. The healing arts can't be learned by a stupid girl. I do know the herbs as well as anyone -- which ones ease fever and soothe the stomach.”
The villagers began moving opposite the door to the lodge. “What's going on?” Nyk asked.
“Bek, the story-teller will be here,” she said. “Here he comes.”
The story-teller stood by the lodge entrance. He began to relate a tale of a long-ago battle between two peoples on another world -- of kings, heroes and beautiful women; of monsters and supernatural beings; of valor and treachery. Nyk began to translate Bek's Esperanto into Lingwafloran for Nayva and Andra.
“I think I'll go to bed,” Andra whispered.
“Don't you want to hear this?”
“I already know how it ends -- the Trojans lose.” Andra beckoned Nayva and they headed toward their hut.
Nyk felt Vipsa lean against him. He glanced at her -- her eyes were transfixed on Bek.
Bek finished the night's installment of the story. The women stood and started toward their huts. “Good night, Nykkyo,” Vipsa said to him.
“Are you tired, too?” Nyk asked.
“It's men's time, now, and the women must go to their huts.”
“Then, good night Vipsa.”
Kyto eyed the women as they retired to various corners of the village. Then he produced a pipe about half a metre long with a cup carved near one end. He filled the cup with a finely-divided powder and handed it to the chief, who placed it to his lips and inhaled sharply.
The old man passed the pipe around to each of the men, reloading it with the powder. Nyk took it, placed it to his lips and inhaled. He could feel a burning in his lungs as the finely divided powder filled them. He began coughing and gasping.
His breath began to return. Nyk sat, transfixed by the flames in the communal fire. He noticed movement around the periphery of his vision; but when he glanced in that direction the movement was gone. Then, a flame leapt up and became a dancing, writhing serpent. Other flames transmogrified into many legged animals. A sense of warmth and community filled him as he watched the fire-beings act out a drama -- the serpents were vanquished and bird-like creatures took wing and flew overhead.
* * *
Morning came. Nyk felt as if his head were stuffed with sponge. “How are you this morning?” Andra asked.
He groaned. “If everyone feels like this, there'll be little work done in the village this morning.”
“It appears most of the work is done by the women,” Nayva sa
id. “They're sent to bed early without benefit of ... whatever that was you indulged in.”
“Kyto tells me today is a ceremonial hunt, to celebrate Ylak's recovery. With luck, tonight we eat well.”
“Are you participating in the hunt?” Andra asked.
“I suppose I must, to bond with the men of the village.”
Kyto appeared at the door and gestured to Nyk.
“What was in that pipe last night?” Nyk asked.
“In the forest grows a special plant, one that has no color. It produces a fruit, which we can eat. If the fruit is left to mature, it splits and fills the air with a cloud of dust.”
“Spores,” Nyk said. “You inhale the spores.”
“We collect the fruit before it opens and dry it by the fire. The resulting dust opens the gateway to the spirit world. Did you see the spirits of the forest last night?”
“I saw hallucinations. Kyto, do you believe spirits exist alongside humans?”
The old man regarded him. “Of course not. The dust releases something in the subconscious -- something we all share. It promotes a sense of community.”
“The villagers believe in spirits?”
“They wish to believe. They need to believe.”
“Don't you feel badly telling them things that aren't true?”
“Come here,” Kyto said and led Nyk into his workshop. “When I'm not collecting plants or making potions, I spend my time reading and writing.”
“I thought you said you couldn't read.”
“I can't read the old words.” The old man climbed a stepstool and took down a staff from a rack under the workshop roof. “I'll imagine you can't read this.” Nyk regarded the staff. It was covered with symbols the likes of which he had never seen. “This is the formula for an herbal remedy for diabetes.” He replaced the staff. “That was written by my predecessor, eight generations ago.
“We simplify for the benefit of the villagers, who need answers to how the world operates. Come, the hunters are gathering.” Kyto gestured with his staff toward a band of men heading into the woods. “Bek is our best hunter,” Kyto said. “Go with them.” Nyk saw most of the men carrying metre-long staffs and wearing small baskets of plaited fiber.
